night of the new moon had begun to wear a little thin. He was
immersed mostly in his admiration for the majesty of the sunset
when he caught sight of the odd trio as they rode their horses
out of the westward glare from a screen of poplar trees and
started toward him. He came to his feet slowly, refusing to trust
his eyes at first. Then, having determined that he was not mis-
taken, he leaped from his perch and charged back down the trail
to alert the others of his little company who were camped im-
mediately below.
Wren got there almost before he did. Her sharp Elven eyes
caught sight of him at about the same time he saw her. Acting
on impulse and leaving her companions to follow as best they
could, she spurred her horse ahead recklessly, came charging
into camp, vaulted from the saddle before her mount was fully
checked, rushed up to Par with a wild yell, and hugged him with
such enthusiasm that he was almost knocked from his feet. When
she was done with him, she gave the same reception to an aston-
ished, but delighted Coll. Walker got a more reserved kiss on
the cheek and Morgan, whom she barely remembered from her
childhood, a handshake and a nod.
While the three Ohmsford siblings-for they seemed such,
despite the fact that Wren wasn’t a true sister-traded hugs and
words of greeting, those with them stood around uncomfortably
and sized up one another with wary glances. Most of the sizing
up was reserved for Garth, who was twice as big as any of the
rest of them. He was dressed in the brightly colored clothing
common to the Rovers, and the garishness of his garb made him
seem larger still. He met the stares of the others without discom-
fort, his gaze steady and implacable. Wren remembered him
after a moment and began the required series of introductions.
Par followed with Steff and Teel. Cogline hung back from the
others; since everyone seemed to know who he was, in any case,
no formal introduction was attempted. There were nods and
handshakes all around, courtesies observed as expected, but the
wariness in the faces of most did not subside. When they all
moved over to the fire that formed the center of the little camp-
site to partake of the dinner that the Dwarves had been in the
process of preparing when Wren and her companions had ap-
peared, the newly formed company of nine quickly fragmented
into groups. Steff and Teel turned their attention to the comple-
tion of the meal, mute as they hovered over the pots and cooking
fire. Walker withdrew to a patch of shade under a scrawny pine,
and Cogline disappeared into the rocks without a word to any-
one. He was so quiet about it that he was gone almost before
they realized it. But Cogline was not really considered a part of
the company, so no one much bothered about it. Par, Coil,
Wren, and Morgan clustered together by the horses, unsaddling
them and robbing them down, and talked about old times, old
friends, the places they had been, the things they had seen, and
the vicissitudes of life.
“You are much grown, Wren,” Coil marveled. “Not at all
the broomstick little girl I remember when you left us.”
“A rider of horses, wild as the wind! No boundaries for you!”
Par laughed, throwing up his hands in a gesture meant to en-
compass the whole of the land.
Wren grinned back. “I live a better life than the lot of you,
resting on your backsides, singing old tales and rousting tired
dogs. The Wesdand’s a good country for free-spirited things,
you know.” Then her grin faded. “The old man, Cogline, told
me of what’s happened in the Vale. Jaralan and Mirianna were
my parents for a time, too, and I care for them still. Prisoners,
he said. Have you heard anything of them?”
Par shook his head. “We have been running ever since Var-
fleet.”
“I am sorry. Par.” There was genuine discomfort in her eyes.
“The Federation does its best to make all of our lives miserable.